You're unbelievable, you know that?
by qwertysweetea
Summary: Howard's actually trying to watch the stupid film Vince picked out for them. Vince is rummaging through Naboo's stuff. A couple of cubes of Turkish Delight, and Howard finds himself in a small room with an antique-looking Vince next to him. Now all that's left is to figure out how to get back before the ship takes a trip into an iceberg. Titanic based story.
1. Chapter 1

I should be ashamed of myself but strangely, I'm not. I usually end up writing a Titanic AU for every fandom I'm a part of but I couldn't bare killing off one of these guys so this happened instead. I'll save the Rose/ Jack one for Dan and Jones, I think.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own The Mighty Boosh or any characters and places associated with Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt. No profit is made form the writing of this fanfiction.

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Howard was actually trying to watch the film that Vince had picked out. It was less than two minutes in and already looked like it was going to be a disappointment but it had been Vince's time to pick. The effort he was making should have been at least acknowledged…

"Hey Howard, look what I've found!"

…Unfortunately, Vince wasn't their too appreciate it. He was digging out a box from under a shelf in the cupboard. Giving it a quick shake, little clouds of white powder shot out from the folds in the cardboard. Sugar powder, he knew instantly. Vince knew his sweets. The box wasn't giving much away though. Just a plain coloured thing with a note he wasn't going to waste his time reading.

Between Naboo and Howard most of the stuff in the house and flat had become plastered with a useless description or instructions. He didn't pay attention to any of that anymore.

Ultimately he preferred the 'shake it, sniff it, bite it' approach that had on more than one occasion warranted a call to key doc. Even with the risk he found it less troublesome that learning either of their weird organising systems.

He pushed the lid back and walked back toward the living room, meeting Howard by the door. "It is sweets."

"Put it back, alright?" He warned, pointing the remote at his face "…and hurry up about it.

Howard knew that his advice was going to be left ignored. It often was. He turned back towards the living room to hear a gentle munching from behind him and an appreciate hum following shortly behind that. "It's really good Howard. You have to try some."

"I cannot believe you're eating it." He could. "It's probably some kind of magic." He added, throwing himself down in the sofa.

"Ohh my God, this stuff _is_ magic. It's so good. Try it."

"No."

"Try it." Vince insisted, sitting down next to him.

"No."

"Go on. Just try it."

"If I try it will you shut up and let me watch the bloody film?"

"Yeah."

"Fine, pass it over."

He motioned for the box and Vince held it out.

Of course it was magic, Howard cursed to himself as his vision came in to focus somewhere he didn't know, and on closer inspection, had no interest in getting to know. The room was tiny. Almost like a prison cell. Two sets of bunk beds sat parallel to one another with enough room for a toilet and sink. There were no windows and a heavy looking door. That was all… oh, and some antique-looking Vince, who was sat by his side with the stupid, dazed smile he always sported when he was going to be looking for approval to whatever equally stupid comment he was going to throw out.

Vince looked towards him, and he threw him back a warning glance. It would have been easier to keep his composure had he been faced with the same electro-ponce he was used to, all product and glitter, but he sat haired cropped and greased back, dress shirt and braces and face completely clear of make-up. Had it been anyone else he would have thought he looked presentable – a smart, proper young gentleman. Had it been anyone else, that was, but it wasn't anyone else. It was Vince… and that made it particularly unnerving.

Vince's eyes flicked up and down him briefly. Something about his look said that he was in much the same state. No moustache, he could tell instantly. A light stubble had taken its place. His braces were tight on his shoulders and his trousers were slightly itchy, and he had no intention of looking at the damage.

Vince's lips parted.

"Don't…" …say a goddamn thing, he was going to say. It went ignored either way.

"At least you've got more style in this place than you do in all the others."

"You're unbelievable, you know that."

Vince laughed at that, standing up to stretch out his limbs. "Where'd you think we are?"

"We're on the Titanic boy, d'ya forget?" A very thick, Irish voice came from the door, partially opened to two stern looking gentlemen and their bags. "Ticket's cost e-bloody-nough."

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Next chapter to be posted up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

"You've got to chill out a bit Howard. Have a bit of fun. It's like being on holiday."

How carefree Vince looked as he sat at the dining table, shovelling food into his mouth like they were just sat at their own, only went to press the already weighty anxiety on Howard's shoulders just that little bit harder. It was another occasion where he could have quite happily choked the life out of him in the vain hope that he would transfer some of the urgency the situation required.

Vince was completely suited to adventure; he could stick out like a sore thumb and still fit in absolutely everywhere. He'd gleefully shook hands and exchanged names with their temporary roommates with no thought as to their imminent death. He gave a large flirtatious smile to some pretty young thing in the corridor and was willing to give more than that, judging by the level of complaining when Howard had spurred him away with a series of gentle pushes to his back.

"Aww, don't be jealous babe." Vince giggled, making to snake an arm around his back.

Howard had given him a particularly harsh shove towards the end of the corridor, watching him resume his strut-like walk. Yep; completely misplaced and completely at home.

Howard? He struggled a little more with that whole thing. Even just looking at those around him was a painful reminder of the events that were to follow. Wherever his eyes landed he found himself repeating the same morbid mantra – 'You're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to die'.

He had tried to get that one through to Vince, subtly. Vince never was much good with subtlety. He had just rolled his eyes at him.

The only distress he'd shown at all was when driving into his waistcoat pocket to find out his compact and eyeliner had been replaced by a pocket watch and handkerchief, and even that was soothed by the glimmer of a reflection he got from the wash basin. Enough to style his hair, he assured Howard.

Howard only made a little effort to show some sort of relief on his behalf. Somehow it had been enough, like a single thumbs up when being asked how well a particular scarf looked with a top: ultimately meaningless but somehow still the backbone to any friendship.

He hoped, futilely, that Vince could hear the panic in his voice when it went unnoticed on his face. Eyes skimmed over his expression without giving any signs of picking up… well, anything at all.

"We're on the Titanic, Vince." The words forced themselves out between his teeth, desperate and stressed, and as quiet as he could make it once their food had been served. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Alright, so the ship's gonna sink but what is it, like 1900?" Vince smiled back, taking a spoonful of his soup. "It took months for people to get places back then. We've got tons of time!"

"It's 1912, not 1812."

"Still…"

He contemplated what kind of scene banging ones head against a table several times would cause and elected to bow it instead, rubbing his hands over his eyes and into his hair.

Vince seemed to pick it up then or at least enough of one to offer an idea, however half-formed it was. "So we get on a lifeboat?"

"Women and children first." Howard countered.

"Well I'm sorted. Just gotta slip on a dress and bat my lashes a little. What are you gonna do?"

"Everything's a joke to you, isn't it?"

"Not always." That teasing smirk was back, but it looked sort of off like it wasn't fully reaching his eyes and then it slipped off all together, and he placed down his spoon and laid his hand on the table between them. "I just don't see the point in panicking about it like you. Don't celebrate the disaster before it's even happened." He was looking uncomfortable, but it wasn't overpowering. He reflected for a moment, looking off somewhere above him before offering, seriously this time: "Maybe we just need some more of that Turkish Delight."

"Do you have any?"

Vince patted down his pockets in a sharp way as though the prospect of getting home had finally taken hold.

"No…" It was uttered in disappointment "…but I left my jacket back in the room. Maybe there's some in there." He tried to add helpfully.

Maybe it was getting through to him a little after all. It wasn't something Howard was proud of, making the little man worry, but he couldn't deny the slight relief. They might just survive it with both of them taking it seriously enough to try instead of waiting for a rescue that might not come.

"Right. Let's go then."

"Hey! Hang on! I'm still eating."

Or maybe not.

"You can eat when we get back." The disbelief wasn't noticed.

"And what if it doesn't work and I've missed out on dinner?"

"Then we'll have bigger things to worry about, won't we?"

"I'll catch up with you in a minute."

Howard looked like he was going to argue but elected against it, nodding slightly before straightening out his shirt and making his way out. Vince watched him, picking at his bread.

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Next chapter to be posted up soon.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been well over an hour since Howard had got back to their room, maybe two. That's what it felt like anyway. He couldn't actually tell since his pocket watch had stopped working at around 1o'clock. The door had creaked open and he had jumped up from his thoughts ready to give Vince the scolding of his life for taking so long when one of the Irish lads wondered in, throwing himself down on his designated mattress.

"You alright?" He grumbled.

"Yeah." Howard replied, taking his position back up.

"Right ladies' man, your friend." It was asked like a question, all confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah right, like you've never been on the receiving end of a cold shoulder following his performance."

He waited a couple of minutes in the tense silence. "So umm… where would one go to socialise around here?"

The other looked back at him with the most obvious stare. "He's in the smoke room."

He'd taken very little time contemplating how to handle the situation. It crossed his mind, if only in a flicker he'd quickly disregarded, that he could sit back with some kind of reading material and enjoy the lingering feeling of impending doom in the peace and quiet while he waited for Vince to come back under his own steam. That's when he found himself fighting his way through the crowd of drunken, dancing people to his friend who stood very out-of-place by one of the tables.

As usual, Vince showed absolutely no shame in being caught out. He doubted he even remembered their previous convocation well enough to deliberately pass him off. Once the mood took Vince it was like driftwood being caught in the turn of the tide. He was sucked into the crowd. All other thoughts in his mind banished.

Now he had an arm each around a girl and a couple of pints slightly glazing over his eyes. He beamed back, eyes flicking between his two conquests excitedly.

"Alright Howard!" He shouted over the tearing violin music. "This is Larissa and Victoria. They're from Liverpool."

"What are you doing?" He replied, once he got close enough to speak without his voice getting lost in the chaos. "You were meant to meet me back in the room."

Vince rolled his eyes, smile still bright. "Come on Howard, chill out a little. Let me get you a drink."

Be pulled a couple of coins from his pocket. How he got them was a completely separate convocation he wasn't prepared to have right now.

"Vince, I need a word."

Vince detached himself and gave them one of his charmer smiles before following Howard to one of the quieter corners where he repeated: "What are you doing?"

"Having a couple of drinks, meeting the locals. "I'm thinking about going for the Victorian threeway." He beamed back, once again completely oblivious of any of what Howard was practically screaming out of him.

"It's the Pre-World War One Era, you tit."

He knew Vince wasn't doing it deliberately, but the pounding in his chest and the anxiety looming over his head was becoming thicker, heavier, and it was getting harder and harder to force back. Maybe it was just the heat, the noise, the fact that they were going to die in three days if they didn't get out of here and he was still treating it like a bloody holiday! Because he'd got his hopes up over dinner thinking he'd got through to him…

Vince looked momentarily defensive, taking a mouth of a glass he seemed to materialise out of nowhere with eyebrows knitted together. "Alright, chill out." He mumbled against the rim.

He smacked the glass out of Vince's hand, spraying beer across the two of them.

"Stop telling me to chill out! Do you not realise we have three days left. Three days and they…" He pointed at the two conquests, giggling together where they had left them "…are dead. He, over there, is dead. And us, we, Vince, we are dead!"

"You don't have to keep reminding me." He replied harshly, shaking the spilled beer off his hands. "It wouldn't hurt you to have a little bit of faith. Maybe if you unwound a little then you could actually come up with something." The hurt was still caught on his face no matter how much he tried to cover it up with anger. He wasn't angry. Not really. He'd never been much good at that when it came to Howard.

"Ohh, and you've come up with some grand plan of escape down here have you? Or were you wanting until you'd got bored of them?"

"I might have been. Why do you care so much anyway? The Turkish Delights not going anywhere, and it's not like we've got a better plan if it doesn't work so where's the harm? Stop being such a virgin about it!"

Howard didn't answer. He just stared back at him with face so hot he's surprised it wasn't giving off fumes. Embarrassment or anger he didn't know. "I'm going back to the room now, and I will be eating that Turkish Delight."

"Fine. Eat your heart out." Vince replied.

"Yeah? I will."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"I'll send you a postcard in 2005 when I'm like 120 and still as fabulous as Hell."

Howard made a mental note to be impressed with Vince's sudden mathematical abilities when he wasn't being an infuriating little bitch, but now wasn't the time. He spun on the heels of his shoes and sauntered out in a way that would have given Vince a run for his money.

He would have done it as well, eaten the Turkish Delight. The only reason he didn't was because by the time he got back the Irish lad was flat out on his back snoring and being the polite gentleman that Howard was, he wasn't going to wake him up rummaging around looking for the jacket. Or, at least, that's what he tried to convince himself as he kicked of his shoes and folded up his over-shirt, before getting into bed and promptly falling into an unsettled sleep.

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Next chapter to be posted up soon.


	4. Chapter 4

He was used to Vince stumbling back drunk, banging around the room obnoxiously like he wasn't trying to sleep a couple of feet away, but then they had never had to share bunk beds. However annoying being woken up to a chorus of swears and hoots as he stumbled on his ridiculous heels was, it was nowhere near as bad as waking up to him accidentally stamping on his head while attempting to crawl his way onto the mattress he'd fought tooth-and-nail for earlier in the day.

"Do you mind?" He grumbled, after a series of groans, hisses and weak ankle taps went ignored.

"Oh shit…" Vince slurred from somewhere above him, losing his footing like talking had taken away his concentration. He landed with an echoing thud on his knees beside the bed. "…I'm sorry Howard. Did I hurt you?"

If Vince honestly cared then he was doing a lot to mask it behind his amusement. His lips were parted in a laugh that would have been extremely vocal had he been surer that the two sleeping muscle men in the opposite bunks weren't going to pummel his pretty face in for waking them up.

Howard battered away his hand as it came to poke at his cheek bone and the shadows the light from the crack in the door cast across them, and he sighed deeply, resting his head back against the pillow. He was annoyed with him, maybe a little jealous... but now wasn't the time for self-analysis. The point was he was irritated with him and a little nap wasn't going to change that. So he certainly wasn't interested in entertaining his drunken mischief.

He'd fallen back into sleep somewhere in amongst those thoughts. When he opened his eyes he was just as disorientated and it was just as dark. Nothing was giving away clues as to the time; his eyes adjusted enough for him to notice the shivering, drunken mess sat on the floor towards the end of the bed, back against the metal frame and knees to his chest.

Apparently he hadn't managed to get up, nor had he the sense to pull his sheet off and cover himself up, and was now shuddering violently, fingers tightening onto his dress shirt.

Howard sighed restlessly but regardless of circumstances, couldn't bring himself to ignore him.

Vince weighted nothing really, less than nothing. He hoisted him up with such little effort and threw a good deal more than half of the blanket over him, and he instantly curled up against him as if it was the most normal thing.

He mumbled something slurred and sleepy, and completely inaudible against his arm.

Howard patted down his hair once in reply, letting his hand rest softly there for a second or two.

Falling back into old habits. Remembering the zoo where they lay a little too close so they didn't freeze during the night, or when they first moved into the flat and threw their bedding on the floor of their room sometime during the night because it was far too weird having all that space.

He tried to recall when that had all ended and they'd both started to feel comfortable in their own beds. Probably not after a fight; he didn't think there was an argument that could be big enough to make such a permanent change, but his brain was giving out and he drifted back into sleep.

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Next chapter to be posted up soon.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time he awoke it was light, and it was to a smack to the face and a jeer. He was about to turn and flick the little twat right between the eyes for being aggravating when he realised that he was still soundly asleep, wrapped entirely in the blanket they were supposed to be sharing. His back was too him, and he was far too tangled to be faking sleep without the claustrophobic panic catching up to him.

An uncomfortable feeling rose in his chest with another jeer.

Howard might have spent the entire day previous trying to grind it into Vince's head that they were stuck in a far less liberal times, but it surprised him how effortlessly he forgot it himself. Most people knew what he and Vince were like because they hadn't seen them any other way, and even if they didn't care. It was far too easy to forget that they were sharing with two people who wouldn't just pass it off when it was God-knows what time of the morning and you were running purely off of natural instinct.

"Didn't think you had it in you Moon." The man laughed from the bottom bunk opposite.

"Where'd you pick her up, ay?" The other laughed, emerging from behind him. "Looks like a right first-class broad."

Luckily most of Vince's face was buried into the pillow.

"Thought it was only your fancy mate up there who could get 'em back but hey, hope for you then there hope for the rest of us, right?"

"Fuck off…" He glared, and was pushing up on his elbows to argue his case when a sleepy and a thickly put-on groan interrupted.

He anticipated the 'morning sexy', all pouty and dreamy because Vince never missed an opportunity to make a sense, or maybe it was just embarrass him this time, but he hadn't expect the arm that landed across his chest or the warm face suddenly nuzzling into his neck.

At this point he wasn't completely sure which one would make for a half decent reply: To stay still and stare awkwardly with breath held that they weren't going to get beaten to death, or beat Vince to death himself. He felt like the latter, but was completely debilitated by his fear of the former.

He watched the other two flicks between disgust, awkwardness and general discomfort before making their way out without a word. Vince was giving off little whimpers until door clicked shut then replaced it with a laugh far too boisterous for someone afflicted with such a bad hangover.

"I thoroughly dislike you right now." He said, turning to his rough-looking friend.

He looked exactly as one would expect after a night of alcohol consumption and dancing. His hair was kinked and his lips swollen, he was supporting some heavy purple shadows under his eyes and a series of pinprick bruises down his neck, disappearing under his shirt. If anyone could pull of a look built on shame, it was him.

"I thought you were meant to be back in the future." He laughed back, throwing his head back onto the pillow with the force of it.

"Don't change the subject. You made us look…" He paused, that same uncomfortable feeling starting to spread out again in his chest. He didn't need to elaborate.

"Yeah. So what? We sleep next to each other all the time. I've lost count how many mornings I've woken up with you poking the base of my spine."

"That's not the point!"

"Not this again. Bloody Hell Howard, it's just sex. Everyone's doing it, even in this stuck up time."

He elected not to reply for a while, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, and jumping out with a huff. After a moment of thought, or how it must have looked from Vince's angle, him staring blankly at his feet, he decided to elaborate. "Look, it's 1912. I'm not going through this again Vince. The ships going down in a couple more days and I'm not going down handcuffed to a rail because you can't keep your hands to yourself."

Vince relented and redirected his attention to the mattress above them, letting out a deep, flittering breath.

"Are we gonna alright Howard?" It was asked seriously. It caught Howard off guard.

"Don't be stupid. When have we ever not been alright?"

Vince sighed deeply but did not reply, following suit.

Howard reattached his braces and attempted to brush the creases out of his dress shirt before pulling it over his shoulders. Vince did similar with only mind complaining, letting out little groans of discomfort whenever he shifted to fast for his sore head to manage. When he finally recovered and slipped on his jacket, Howard asked from somewhere behind him:

"Any Turkish Delight in your pockets?"

He ran his hands into his pockets and the expression on his face froze somewhere between disbelief and relief. "Yeah."

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Next chapter to be posted up soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Obligatory talking about what 'this' is chapter.

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The mood was hard to shift in the dining room that afternoon. Vince became the personification of bad table manners. Elbow on the table and head in his hand, stabbing at his food without lifting any of it to his mouth and only occasionally emitting some kind of revolting, gargling sound from the back of his throat like he was trying to dislodge a bad taste. It crossed Howard's mind to console him, or at least attempt to talk him out of the frump he was in but he was at a loss for words and didn't feel much like speaking himself.

The alcohol had fully burnt out of his system now and there was no more of that liquid hope propping up his sunny optimism.

The Turkish Delight seemed like such a sure fix really. Why else would it have come with them when nothing else did? Both of them had been so hopeful. Hold tight and think of home, and all that rubbish… and it hadn't worked. It was hard to hide the disappointment.

It took Howard a couple more moments and a lot of willpower to drag himself out of it enough to move. He placed his hand on Vince's shoulder from across the table, shaking it slightly when his gaze remained on the table. "Hey, come on. We'll figure it out."

"It's not that I'm upset about…" He mumbled out sometime afterwards, when Howard had given up on getting a reaction out of him. "I mean yeah, it's a bitch that we're still here, and I hate these stupid itchy clothes, and how greasy my hair is getting, but that's not it. I'm upset because I've only just realised. I'm so stupid."

"Realised what?"

Surely it hadn't taken this long to get through to him? Surely he wasn't suddenly struck with that same horrific melancholy plaguing Howard, now, after his night of fun? How good must those girls have been to make Vince snap out of his constant state of positivity and straight into morbid realisation?

All valid and possible thoughts...

"You ain't into girls, are you?"

...all apparently wrong.

Howard swallowed his mouthful uncomfortably, and sighed heavily out of his nose. "Not really."

"But you ain't into boys either?"

"We aren't discussing this." He said sturnly. Not on the Titanic. Not when he didn't really understand it himself.

"We've got nothing else to do."

"Vince." He warned.

"Do you remember when I came out to you Howard?"

Vince had been the master at choosing the wrong time. Stress seemed to do that to him. He'd gladly skip by perfectly plausible times to get to the inappropriate one. This was another example of that.

"Both times. Where are you going with this?"

"Do you feel anything when we're… y'know, lying next to each other like that? When we wake up hugged up together?"

Howard looked awkward then, but Vince urged him on silently. He slid his elbow off the table and pressed his hands between his knees.

"Well yeah. I feel really happy. Because I'm close to you. Because I know you're home and safe, and not wondering around the streets waiting to get slashed up because you can't run away in your unpractical shoes. And because it reminds me of the old days in the zoo, sometimes. Night watch."

Howard felt himself smiling around the awkwardness, though he wasn't so sure at what point that had happened. Remembering the good old days tended to do that. Other memories began prickling their way to the surface but he pushed them back. Not right now.

"Is that it?"

"What do you mean is that it?" His smile dropped all together. "I'm pouring my heart out to you and you're asking me if that's it?"

"I mean, you aren't feeling anything else physically?"

Then it struck Howard. It churned in his stomach and presented itself as a grimace.

"Is that really so important to you, Vince? I mean, we're not like that, we never have been, so why is it so significant? Are you really that egotistical you need everyone to be having wet dreams about you?"

"No. It's not like that."

"Then what's it like? There isn't anything wrong with me!"

"I'm not saying there is Howard. I'm just trying to understand. I can't imagine what it's like not wanting that and… and I've just been assuming that you do. I'm upset because we might not be getting out of this one... And I'm so dense I've only just realised there is stuff about you that I haven't bothered trying to figure out. I don't want you dying thinking I don't care."

Vince may have had the strange ability to pull off looks built completely on shame, but actual shame didn't sit right on him at all. Without the pride lurking somewhere under the surface he looked like a child who'd just had a caning, and it was as uncomfortable to look at as him in period-wear.

"I know you care Vince." He uttered back, putting his hand back on his shoulder like he was trying to comfort him. Where Vince's eyes had dropped then looked back at him with a glimmer of hope Howard had wished he;d seem the night before, while talking of their impending doom in the corner of that smoky social room. "You don't have to know everything about me to prove you care about me."

"Yeah but..." Looking back down again as he tried to group the words "...I want to. You're my best mate."

They sat through the rest of the meal in silence. It was comfortable, Howard noticed; Vince still looked glum but he'd pushed him enough to attempt a few few crackers, and was sat up straighter like it was the weight of his guilt that was preventing him from doing so in the first place.

It was weird to think that something so small to Howard could knock him out from under himself when a brick through the window after a bad gig or a stern warning at the breakfast table by a very tired and irritable Howard did nothing. He didn't like it... it might have been Howard to be deep and melancholy but it wasn't Vince. It just wasn't... right.

"Come on, let's go back to the room." He mumbled after a little while.

Howard looked up from his thoughts. "Aren't you going back out socialising?"

"Howard…" He frowned, conflicting emotions crashing over his face.

"Go out." Have fun, be more Vince, he wanted to add. "Hey, it could be our last days on earth, you don't want to be trapped in a room."

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Oh, don't worry about me little man. I'm going to start on my umm… autobiography. Trumpet full of memories, I'm going to call it. It's umm… it's going to be riveting, riveting stuff. Best seller in no time. Gonna put me on the map."

Vince smiled softly, voice reflecting the gentleness in it "It sounds absolutely horrific."

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I like to imagine Vince came out to Howard twice: as liking girls and boys when they were at primary school during silent prayer, and as sometimes not being a boy when they were waiting to be rescued by Naboo during an adventure in the Zooinverse days [possibly hanging over the fire pit in Monkey Hell]. No official terminology, just as it is. He didn't feel like he needed to but did anyway.

Howard accepted it with no issues, accept his piss-poor timing. "Couldn't you have waited 'til playtime" and "Couldn't you have waited 'til we're back in the hut?" were both used respectively.

Next chapter to be posted up soon.


	7. Chapter 7

He was in no rush to get back to the room. Plus, a walk along the deck might do him some good. Get the ideas flowing and all of that. He hadn't really had the chance with all the adjusting to the change in scenery they… he, that he was doing.

He was only now starting to realise how cold it was. It's okay when you are trapped in a crowded room or corridor, it's suddenly very easy to forget that you're travelling across the Atlantic.

That thought struck him pretty hard, so much so that he stopped dead in his tracks and leant on the railings to catch his breath a bit. The metal was biting, the wind was worse. God knows what the water would be like. He'd been going on at Vince, feeling that anxiety claw at his chest through his desire to get back home, but now he was staring into the dark sky and down into the even darker water.

This was real.

That's what their adventures had always lacked: a little bit of reality. This? This was all real, all reality… Inevitability stretching out before him. Bleak. Depressing. Without Vince beside him like his own little personal lighthouse it was all the worst parts of the zoo painted out in one large, ominous tragedy.

He focused as hard as he could on the sky like he hoped the moon would have something useful to say for once but even this one seemed inanimate, less like a pillock covered in shaving foam and more like a lump of rock millions of miles away. Stars dotted it aimlessly but even then looked trapped behind a thin, shimmering veil. Maybe it was the television screen, he allowed himself to think on for a moment, before the ridiculousness caught up with him and he shook his head in embarrassment, glad nobody was there to hear his thoughts.

Foolishness. There was no more chance of that then there was him jumping over the side and walking across the water to home like they were just stuck on some horrific recreation on a giant frozen pond. Again, he allowed himself to think on it for a few moments, but not before taking the last of the Turkish Delight out of his pocket and launching it weakly into the water.

It rippled.

So much for that theory.

He was getting sicker the longer he stared at it.

"How are we going to get out of this one?" He muttered to the sky. "Give me some sort of clue."

There was no answer.

It was less late when Vince came back, and he wasn't nearly as drunk judging by how steady he was on his feet. Howard hadn't long been in himself, having given up on getting a creative spark; he'd only just managed to warm up.

He heard shoes being kicked off, the gentle click of braces and the rustle of fabric as he threw it onto the floor, just like he would back home. He didn't have the energy to scold him, not that it would do any good. He moved over to the sink. It ran for a moment, then it stopped and a single, painfully soft sob followed.

Howard shifted slightly, but it was far too dark to see.

"Vince?"

A sniff replied.

"Come on." He pulled back the covers.

He climbed in and quickly curled into a ball, his face already buried in his arms. Howard assumed, and quite rightly so, that it was to cover the lack of alcohol on his breath. Friend since childhood, it panged a little to know he felt more comfortable pretending to be drunk to climb under the covers with him, but now wasn't the time to get insulted.

"You can't still be upset about earlier." He said. Part exclamation, part question.

There was no reply but a deep, soft exhale of breath as Vince drifted into sleep.

Typical.

* * *

Next chapter to be posted up soon.


End file.
